Doll Maker
by DarkLordZorkaPorp
Summary: He got the first one in third grade. It was a small little thing, with rips and tears borne of carelessness and neglect. Harry loved that doll. It's the first of many, and the beginning of Harry's destiny.
1. The Beginning

**Welcome** **one and all to the reposting of Doll Maker! Alice and I haven't really reworked these first couple chapters, because... Well, because I'm lazy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Regretfully, Alice and I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise.**

He got the first one in third grade. It was a small little thing, with rips and tears borne of carelessness and neglect. Dirt had covered it so much so that he'd have thought it to be part of the ground, if it hadn't been so soft when his bully of a cousin pushed him down. He'd snuck it inside of his overly baggy shirt, tucked between his waistband so it wouldn't run away, and snuck off to clean it when his cousin was busy picking on someone else.

He snuck around the back of Number 4, turned on the hose the tiniest bit, and scrubbed the thing with such care and tenderness, you'd think he was washing a small animal instead. As the thing became soggier, its features became clearer to the abnormally small child. Why, it was a little prince! It was a handsome little doll, once one got past the wear and tear, and was still soft with what little stuffing it had left. It had a small crown on its head that was bent at strange angles, and the poor thing looked very unprincely with how ruffled he was. The worst thing about it was its face. It looked lost, betrayed and confused. The little prince must have been thrown out by some very not-nice people. He leaned down and whispered to the soggy, dirty, torn and worn doll, "You're just like me."

The dolls eyes seemed to widen, and then soften. The little prince knew, and the child knew that he knew, that they were birds of a feather. And birds of a feather flock together.

Harry resolved to fix him that night.

As much as Harry had resolved to fix his new friend (because they couldn't be anything else, now that the little prince had seen his cupboard), he just really didn't have the materials for it. Nor did he know where to start. As Harry sat in his cupboard, stomach growling with hunger as he had once again gone without dinner, he pondered what to do about his little problem. He couldn't steal from Aunt Petunia's sewing set, she'd hit him with the frying pan for sure, and he also didn't want to give up what little food money he had collected over time for severe emergencies. Harry needed that, as much as his new friend needed some new clothes and a thorough cleaning. The child glanced over at the little prince, worry marring his innocent face. Surely he couldn't be at all comfortable? But he really couldn't afford to let go of his food money to get him some fabrics, stuffing, and a needle to work with. Harry groaned in frustration and wished with all of his might that he had some instructions for fixing dolls and a sewing set with nice fabric, for the little prince surely deserved some luxury.

Harry huffed and stewed over it some more. He would just try to mend the little prince as best he could with his limited supplies for now. His birthday was in a few weeks, and maybe the Dursleys would be nice for once and get him his own sewing kit, and he could borrow instructions from the library!

…..No, Harry had best keep that desire to himself, for he'd surely be banned from even going near Aunt Petunia's sewing stuff and then he wouldn't be able to fix his new friend at all.

A few days passed and Harry kept fixing up his little prince whenever he was able. Meaning whenever he wasn't being watched like a hawk. He thinks he did a rather commendable job, all things considered. The little prince no longer looked like he'd fall apart at any moment, and though the inexperienced stitches made for nasty scars, the little prince looked a lot happier than he did when Harry had brought him in. He couldn't do anything for the crooked crown though.

A strange thing though, was that Harry always knew where his little prince was. Dudley had even thrown the little prince away at some point, but Harry had found him within the hour. Even out of his mind with worry for the doll he'd hardly let out of his sight, Harry spared a thought or two towards why he was able to find his friend. He suspected that it had something to do with the mysterious sparkling green stuffing that filled his friend after their first day together. So he experimented.

After softly apologizing to his friend, Harry removed the green stuffing and waited for a change. To his surprise, not only could he no longer feel where his friend was, but the stuffing was disappearing _into_ his skin. Harry let out a startled yelp as the chunk he took out of the little prince turned into a sort of brilliant, grass green, sparkling-like-the-stars mist that wrapped around his hand as it seeped into his skin. Was this the freakishness Uncle Vernon was always raving about? This… strange green energy-ish type thing? It was kind of misty, kind of like a light, and it definitely reminded him of a night sky. If said night sky were green. The child watched, half-fascinated, half-terrified, as the stuff unwound itself like yarn fraying into wool and he came to a conclusion. This must be magic. If magic existed, that meant Uncle Vernon was wrong! Maybe Harry really wasn't a waste of space! He even had his very own friend now! An inanimate, sort of broken friend who was probably super cool and princely and stuff, but a friend none the less.

And all of the sudden the good feelings stopped. He had just taken the stuffing out of his friend. Oh gosh, he'd taken the _stuffing_ out of his _very first friend!_ Oh no, the little prince was probably not at all happy with him right now. He didn't even know how to get the strange sparkly-green-mist-magic stuff out of his hand again! Okay, he had to find it first. It'd probably feel like when he found the little prince, so he'd just have to find that and bring it back out of his hand. He could do this. No problem. He would get stuffing for his little prince!

Harry took a deep breath and tried to find the magic (?) that had been in the little prince since their first day together. And find it he did. He felt it shifting along lazily inside him. It slithered through his blood and around his body, seeming to originate behind his heart. It felt shifty and mysterious, like a cat but more easily dangerous. Like The lynxes or a wildcats Harry had read about when he was hiding in the school library. It drifted through his body, fading through what felt like invisible walls before condensing again and continuing on, if a bit thinner than before. It felt like a cloud, just drifting about as it pleased, sometimes releasing bits of itself that seemed to feed something around the house. The thing it fed seemed to thank it graciously, but it felt rather flimsy as well. Something told him it should have been much stronger than it was. There was another, more grounded kind of feeling around his stomach, feeling closer to his belly button, and it didn't drift around like the misty, cloud-ish stuff did. It pooled in his stomach and it made him feel calm. Like a nice resting place after a long, long flight with the birds migrating south. He poked at both feelings, both literally and mentally, and received acknowledgement from both. The calmer feeling just seemed to lazily crack open an eye and go back to ignoring him. " _Yes, yes, I can see you, but you don't need me now, so go away._ " It seemed to say. The drifty feeling, however, seemed to grow excited about his poke. " _Yes, yes! You've found me, and now we can play!_ " Was the feeling he got from it.

Harry bit back a surprised gasp as the drifty-magic (defiantly magic) jumped to just above his skin, giving him an ethereal glow while it moved about in the same manner it had in his body. Strangely enough, the thing that had been eating the stray bits wasn't trying to eat at it now. He instinctually sent an image of the stuffing he needed for his friend to the drifty-magic, who just seemed to wink and give off an, _"I can do better than that,"_ kind of smug feeling. He watched, completely enraptured, as the magic coating his skin healed his own bruises and scars and fixed his clothes, before condensing into a tight ball and flowing into his little prince. It dropped a small golden crown with little green gems set into it with a tiny 'clink' as it disappeared into his friend. His little prince's own scars from Harry's patch jobs disappeared and his clothes got repairs that Harry simply hadn't been able to do. In fact, he got a lovely pale yellow poet's shirt and a rich golden vest, those old fashioned kind of puffy pants in old movies in a dark green that looked almost black, and a beautiful shimmering green cloak with silver clip things keeping it in place. He looked a bit more common than Harry imagined a prince to be, more noble-ish instead of princely, but Harry supposed that even princes had a humble dress code for off days. He'd look better with the crown for sure. So, Harry picked up the tiny crown, little more than a large ring for him, and placed it on the top of his little prince.

"Much better." He giggled. Only to bite back another surprised gasp (he was doing that a lot today) as the prince seemed to become more real looking every second that passed from the head down. He looked firmer, more like a human than a floppy stuffed doll. He also started smelling better as well, since sitting in Harry's waistband all day while Harry did chores and he collected the boys sweat was not good when it came to smelling nice (Harry wouldn't let the doll out of arm's reach after he'd been binned by Dudley). As the magic that radiated from the crown seeped past below his waist, his rounded off hands acquired fingers and his elbows became moveable. As the transformation was complete, he was also gifted with shiny black loafers and socks the same deep green as his pants. All-in-all, he looked like he may sit up and breathe at any second.

The extra magic in the now human-looking doll rose from him like steam and curled lazily towards Harry's open-mouthed visage. The magic sunk back into his bloodstream as Harry only stared in awe and shock. As it settled back into its lazy drifting, seeming to be more sluggish than before, Harry reached towards his only friend.

"Wow," Harry breathed, "Wow." It was all Harry was able to say as a shaky hand rubbed a thumb across the tiny prince's new face, a wide grin spreading across his face. Another "Wow." was breathily released as Harry's entire form stated shaking in exhaustion. It was impressive magic for one so young, definitely. Especially because the fabrics and the crown were no mere Conjurings! The new body of the once flat-ish doll was no mere illusion or reversible Transfiguration either. All were very permanently in the material word. Harry knew none of this though. All he knew was that his magic was ultra-awesome and his first friend was still as surprisingly soft and snuggly as ever as he collapsed onto his cot and fell asleep.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, little prince cuddled in his arms, he never noticed a glittering green pulse of light, as it both cleaned his new friend and gave it (sparkling green) stuffing so that the little prince looked a little fuller. Then traveling out to one Marge Dursley, giving her the inexplicable desire to buy her shameful nephew a mocking sort of gift and bring one of her more mildly tempered dogs. That disgraceful Shiba-inu pup she was given earlier that year and a cheap sewing kit would do. She could abandon the pup after her visit.

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, if you could. Alice really appreciates them! For real, she, like, stares at each one for hours. They're her reason for writing.**


	2. The Magic

The next time Harry awoke, he was still faintly trembling from exhaustion and his chores were not helping that at all. Aunt Marge was visiting soon. She was due to arrive on his birthday, in fact. Harry was the only one who celebrated his birthday (and now his little prince. Because he has a friend now), but it was still pretty much the worst thing they could do on his special day. Not only was the woman herself a real piece of work, but she always brought that with her. That vicious thing that needed his rabies shot. The fat, ugly, mean-spirited, really-a-lot-like-his-owner, and vicious dog Ripper. And Ripper always wanted to rip Harry's face off. The horrible thing would not only be after Harry this year, but his little prince too, since they never went anywhere without the other. If Ripper got a hold of his wonderful little prince…. No. No, he would not let that happen.

As Harry's thoughts got increasingly agitated, so did his magic. It swirled just beneath his skin, and only then because his relatives were around. It knew it's master's pain. It would avoid showing itself unless absolutely needed. But they would pay. Oh, yes, they would pay. Even the utterly calm magic in his stomach was churning in agitation. His stomach itself was churning in anxiety.

But Harry did his very large, utterly exhausting list of yard and housework until well after dinner, once again not being fed. He found all members of the Dursley family (sans Marge for now) asleep in their rooms when he was done, and took the chance to take his first shower in a week or two. It was nice, long, and warm, something he hardly ever got as it 'Wasted too much water on a worthless freak like you!' as quoted by Uncle Vernon. He also snuck into the kitchen, stealing any scraps not locked away, and then going to his cupboard to collapse once more.

Harry pulled the little prince out from his waistband, and snuggled him lovingly. His first and only friend was lovely. He'd listen whenever Harry had problems and he never called Harry mean names. He was pretty, and his crown kept him pristine and snuggly-soft as ever. The child wondered what his friend thought of him. Hopefully he didn't mind the chattering and snuggling. Even if he protested, Harry wasn't sure he'd respect the doll's wishes. He loved snuggling and chatting at his only friend entirely too much to ever give that up.

After a couple minutes of similar thoughts had passed, Harry realized that he wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon. Which was a real shame, because he was extremely tired and very ready for bed. At the same time he realized he couldn't sleep, he also felt that he had forgotten something. Looking down at the doll in his arms, Harry realized with a start, he had never properly thanked his drifty-magic (it really needed a name) for healing up his little prince! Harry looked inside himself for the misty-green-sparkly stuff that flowed along with his blood, and sent a large wave of gratitude along with a thought about his little prince. He got a pleased response and a wave of deeper green from the calmer presence in his stomach that made his really sleepy. As his head hit the pillow, Harry Potter was lost to the world.

The next few weeks were a blur for little Harry. He grew closer to his doll, always carrying him around and snuggling with him. Even though Pince made him sweat a bit extra when he had to work outside, Harry always had the little prince with him. He told him everything, always. He were always around, so it went to figure that they'd know about it anyway, but Harry gave Prince details that he surely couldn't see from his waistband.

Harry's chores didn't slow down. In fact, they seemed to grow heavier as the date approached Marge's visit. It also drew closer to Harry's birthday, but the Dursleys wouldn't care about that. He got less and less table scraps, as the heavier chores hardly ever got completed before dinner. His magic helped where it could, but there's not much his magic could do subtle enough so that the Dursleys wouldn't see. Harry's calmer magic tried it's best to keep his underfed body in workable condition, staving off the many illnesses he surely would have had if it'd not been working so hard for him. His drifty magic made the heavier objects he had to carry much lighter, it opened doors for him when he had to carry them inside or out of the shed, and it kept the garden almost weed-free by taking out a few whenever he walked past the garden. His magic really was too kind to him.

Harry's magic was also weirdly excited. Two days before Marge's visit, it wouldn't calm down at all, and it ended up making Harry feel sick with all the excited churning it was doing. He had to do his chores anyway, but he was given a bucket to throw up in so he didn't sick up all over the carpets he was supposed to be cleaning. His magic felt horribly guilty about it later, even when Harry assured it that it was no big deal. He didn't know why it was so excited, but his magic just couldn't seem to help itself. It was calmer the next day, only making Harry a tiny bit queasy with its churning, but the sense of anticipation was making Harry nervous. And then the big day arrived.

Marge had shown up with large heavy bags that Harry had to carry in, as usual, but instead of the monster she usually brought with her, a small fluffy pup trailed behind her as she entered the house. As Harry was ushered into the cupboard, likely to stay there for the duration of Marge's visit, the overly large lady tossed a plastic bag at his head. She sneered at his deer-in-headlights expression.

"Well, open it boy. A good-for-nothing present for a good-for-nothing freak."

Harry numbly reached into the bag (his first present! From _Aunt_ _Marge_ of all people), hand curling around a small plastic case. He had received a cheap plastic sewing kit. As he slowly held it up to his face, his relatives started snickering at him. The hurtful words they spat at him washed over Harry, as he was more concerned with how his magic was acting. His drifty-magic was bubbling just beneath his skin, extremely excited about something, but doing nothing about it for the moment. A cautious but curious touch from Harry was all it took to explode.

Harry's magic streamed outwards, visible bright green strands weaving about him, making his clothes and hair whip about as if in a particularly strong wind. His relatives all shrieked in alarm, moving to stop him, but not able to get close. Frightened green eyes turned to them in desperation, hoping that _someone_ at least knew what was going on, only getting doubly frightened looks in return. Harry reached for his magic, hoping to sooth it into cooperation, but it ignored him, choosing to attack the small case in front of him, absolutely drowning the thing in magic. The child had no idea what to do, his magic was completely fixated on the small plastic case in front of it.

Maybe it was Harry's anxious shifting, maybe it was the wind his magic had swept up, or maybe it was of his own accord. Whatever it was, Harry was glad for it. For in that moment, while the small seven year old stood frozen with panic, the Little Prince fell out of Harry's waistband. Just flopped right out. As the Doll hit the floor with a dull 'thump', Harry's magic seemed to come to it's senses. It was suddenly calm and it serenely retreated under the surface of Harry's skin. The sensation was mildly uncomfortable, the magic having built up feeling as if it was pushing against his skin, but Harry was just glad that the terrifying moment had passed.

His relief was short lived, however, and as soon as he'd scooped up his Little Prince, his awareness was jerked back onto his relatives. His very scared, very _angry,_ relatives. In particular, a certain Uncle with a rapidly coloring face. Harry was in trouble. Big, painful, trouble.

Harry's magic flared out once more, and instead of the focused, flowing mess it had been before, uncontrollable and terrifying, it flared out in one large, comforting, green pulse. The pulse washed over the room, righting all of the wrongs it's earlier whirlwind had inflicted upon the space. It washed over Harry's relatives, knocking them out cold and sending them crumbling to the floor. It phased through the walls of the house, expanding out on all sides for several mile, and Harry was overloaded with a barely comprehensible mass of information. He suddenly knew where even the slightest particle of dust was in the covered area. On the verge of passing out from over-stimulation, Harry stumbled a bit and gently tugged his magic back. The overload of information cut off.

It only took a minute or two for all of this to happen, from the sewing kit to the overload, but Harry felt like several hours had passed by in that time. The reality of the situation hit Harry like a sledgehammer.

Harry bolted.

 **Alright, I'm a bit late, but I did remember to post! :D My only excuse is that I'm lazy and Alice and I have been working on some cosplay :p**


	3. The Escape

Filled with an alarming sense of urgency, Harry dashed up the stairs into Dudley's second bedroom, grabbing an old pack and stuffing one of Dudley's old coats inside. He then sprinted back down to his cupboard, grabbing everything he owned (a small bag of shiny rocks, dull ones, bits and pieces of metal, extra fabric and thread from Petunia's sewing station, little twigs and other bits of wood. He hoarded a lot he knew, but he felt like he needed it and it somehow all fit in the bag so he wasn't overly concerned about it) and running back out into the kitchen. While there he grabbed granola bars and water bottles, healthy things the Dursley's had but never ate. They wouldn't miss it.

Harry hesitated by the vase in the living room, where he knew his Aunt kept money for rainy days. It'd be bad to take it, but he might need it later. It's not like the Dursley's ever bought him anything anyway. It'd be like the birthday presents they never gave him. Decided, Harry quickly swiped the money and was about to bolt out of the door when he heard a small whimper.

Turning around warily, Harry came face to face(snout?) with the small dog Marge had brought with her. It was a tiny thing, and looked about as well cared for as Harry himself. The small dog cautiously approached Harry, sniffing hopefully at something he had in his pack. Harry swallowed quietly. The dog looked about as close to Ripper as an orange to a watermelon, but Harry just couldn't be sure. But it really did look pathetic. It's rusty orange fur was matted with dirt and Harry could see its ribs. The sniffing and puppy dog eyes just made it look all the more pitiable. And poor, poor Harry, he always had been a kind boy at heart.

Realizing he was wasting time with his staring contest with the dog, Harry once more exploded into action. Scooping up the dog with one arm and opening the door with the other, Harry ran as fast as he could into the fading light.

He ran and he ran and he ran. At some point he became aware that his magic was keeping his weak limbs moving, the misting clouds of his magic soaking into his muscles, and that the dog in his arms was surprisingly calm, likely attributed to the thin cloud of drifty-magic covering its form. And still Harry ran and he ran. He ran for what must have been hours, far longer than Dudley and his band of bullies would have ever been able to chase him.

Eventually his magic could no longer sustain him, and Harry fell limply to the ground. The little dog gave a small yelp as Harry's thin frame came centimeters away from crushing it. As it was Harry barely managed to keep himself from crushing the thing, offering what small protection he could from the fall. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay where he was, let the peaceful call of unconsciousness take his small form into it's sweet embrace. But Harry knew the dangers of the streets at night, especially in a city. ( _flashbacks of being locked out of the hotel room when Vernon brought the family on a trip, unable to leave him behind. Hiding behind a dumpster in the rain as scary men with piercings and tattoos loitered nearby. Fearing for his life as he watched them torture a small rodent)_ so he wobbled onto rubbery legs, stumbling into the night.

He would not stop here, not now, not so close to freedom. He could find a safer place to sleep. Harry refused to succumb to the tempting darkness on the edge of his vision, refused to let the puppy in his arms fend for itself in such a cruel world, refused to give up. Not until he was moderately safe.

Stumbling around blind really wasn't Harry's best idea, he knew. But what else could he do? It's not like he knew where to go, not without being taken back to his relatives. He'd only wondered for a few more minutes before he'd run into a bench. With bleary eyes, he noted that it was a bus stop. With a bus in front of it. Harry quickly weighed his options. The bus's light in the front said it would end up in london, and surely he'd be able to disappear there. But then, he's just a kid, so wouldn't him getting on the bus by himself make people suspicious? If he didn't get on the bus though, he'd be walking for goodness knows how long. Harry didn't think he could survive that.

So decided, Harry quickly got on the bus, paid the fare, and settled down in the first seat he could collapse into. He leaned his head against the cool window, very glad to be off of his feet. He pulled his Prince out of his waistband and snuggled him to his chest. Harry could swear the doll was warm... But as soon as he'd thought such a thing, his magic was floating around his head in wispy clouds, luring him to sleep.

The next time Harry woke, it was to the bus driver gently shaking him awake. The man was gruff looking, rather round with a scruffy beard to match his har. The puppy was sound asleep in his lap, still shrouded by his misty-magic.

Once he saw that Harry was awake, the bus driver leaned back, Prince in his hand. He gives the doll a considering look, before tossing his gaze back at Harry, who was still too exhausted to really register what was going on. He gently places the doll in the boy's hand with a soft chuckle.

"To see one alone so young..." He picks up the boy's bag and deposits a thick book inside. He then picks up the small dog and gently places it inside as well, making sure not to squish any of the pack's contents. It doesn't so much as whine, still deeply asleep. He gently sits the boy up and pulls him to his feet, the doll hanging limply from Harry's fingers.

"C'mon kid. I hate doing this, but this is the end of the line." Harry is gently guided off of the bus and into a nearby sheltered ally. It was a nicer kind of neighborhood, so the bus driver wasn't overly worried about the boy's safety as he deposited the young man under an awning, the dumpster next to it smelling something awful, but the bus driver couldn't really do anything about it. The boy would be safe until he woke up at least.

As the bus driver walked away without a backward glance, he thought that perhaps this boy would become something incredible, if only he had the chance to grow. He finds himself not at all mourning the loss of his time-treasured book, sure it was going to a good cause.

Harry, meanwhile, simply shrinks against the wall of the alley, backpack cradled gently against his chest and his little prince firmly wedged between the backpack and himself. He once again succumbs to an exhausted slumber.

 _ **Alright, I have no excuses. This is an old chapter, so it's been written for ages. I just forgot to post. Whoops. In my**_ _ **defense**_ _ **, Alice has been an absolute task master about our cosplay project. Blame her for the delay. (ignore the part where she actually had her part of the job done ages ago... shhhh)**_


	4. The Street

When Harry wakes up next to a dumpster, he admits, he panics a little. Just a little though, and he certainly didn't accidentally toss his little prince into the stinky dumpster. If all this is true, you may ask, then why is Harry digging through said stinky dumpster? Well... You can shut up.

As it is, Harry is currently leaning over the side of a dumpster, feet barely touching the ground, as he frantically shifts through garbage to find his precious little prince (and if he pulls out a few edibles along the way, well, he'd eaten worse at the Dursley's). It seems his prince had fallen quie deeply into the dumpster during his unexpected dive, and Harry was getting ready to simply bodily jump into the dumpster to search more deeply (Even with almost not touching the ground, all Harry could do was shift around the surface garbage), when he spots a flash of gold.

He immediately stretches forward, pushing aside an empty take-out box, and spots his prince's cute little head, his crown glinting in the low light of the alley. With a relieved smile, Harry tugs his little prince free, only to be met by a bit of extra weight.

There, his little prince caught in one of it's various hole, is what appeared to be a rag with stuffing falling out of it. Harry tugs it closer by way of his little prince, and gently separates the two. With an extra moment of curious inspection, Harry finds that the object is not, in fact, a rag with random stuffing, but a _very_ torn up rabbit plush. What little of it's once luxurious fur it had left was muddy and matted, and it had so many rips and tears and holes that it looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal. One of its dark glass eyes was missing, and the other was hanging on by a thread.

Harry's eyes darken in concern for the poor doll and he glances down at his prince.

"What do you think?" He whispers, "Shall we bring her with us?"

As if listening to a response from the doll that only he could hear, Harry nods at the little doll and, so very carefully, places the rabbit in his bag. With a small smile and a whisper of comfort, Harry zips his bag closed, not noticing the hard rectangle at the bottom, though he did note that his pack was much heavier than he remembered as he hefted it onto his shoulder. He brushed the thought to the side as he casts a glance around for the small dog he'd brought out here with him, finding it playfully tearing into the remains of someone's steak dinner that he'd tossed it while digging through the dumpster.

Harry quirks a smile at it and waits for it to finish eating by eating his own food. He saves the granola bars for later, instead forcing down some of the edibles he'd pulled from the dumpster. He wouldn't be able to take them with him as he walked, for fear of drawing undue attention, so it was best to eat it now. He made sure to carefully inspect each piece of food before he eats it, trying to make sure he wouldn't get sick. It's not long before Harry is finished eating, feeling more full than he had in weeks, and he scoops up the pup after cleaning up their mess.

He creeps out of the alley cautiously, carefully cradling the oddly complacent pup, and stuffing his little prince into his waistband like always. He shuffles into the crowd of what he presumed to be London and begins his life on the streets

Harry found life as a street urchin far more agreeable than his time with the Dursleys. His meals were more regular, although regularly dug out of trashcans in the dark of night, and he even had enough to keep his growing pup fed decently most days. And although several thugs had attempted to threaten him, he was fast enough to escape them, and they were less determined to him harm than Dudley's gang was (He was, after all, a small child. It wasn't like he'd have much on him).Finding shelter was a problem, but he'd found a nice bridge a small ways away from where he woke up that first day that had a mostly-dry sewer pipe large enough for him to crawl into when he needed to. Fishing clothes and blankets out of donation bins at charity shops gave him something to keep himself warm with. It wasn't long until he had a little fort down under the bridge. After a few months, he'd mostly managed to keep out of the eyes of the authorities and the local gangs, and he felt he was doing pretty well for himself, despite a few close calls. Most importantly, he had a chance to get to know his newfound magic and no one punished him for practicing with it!

It was on a day where it was too cold for Harry and his dog to leave his little sewage pipe, though Harry's magic kept it warm enough that Harry wasn't too worried, when Harry finally dug through his backpack to check what he had, and discovered the mysterious book.

He'd been pawing through the bag, pulling out extra blankets and seeing what food he had (He had enough granola bars and water still to last a few days, if he needed), when his hand had hit something hard and square, something Harry definitely hadn't grabbed on his rush out the house, nor bothered with since he'd been out on the streets. A book. As he pulled it out, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he observed the cover. It was a deep, almost black, purple dyed leather that seemed to shine in the low light of the sewage pipe. In shining gold print across the cover, it read one simple word: Opifex.

Harry tugged the book open, his dog crawling under his arm to peek at it. With a gulp, he turns the first page, quite sure that this would be a life changing moment (I mean, a magic book! How else would it have appeared in his pack? It had to be magic, it _had_ to).

Only to find a blank page.


End file.
